


Darling, How Could You Be So Blind

by sittelle



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'll put a warning on the chapter, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internal Monologue, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Panic Attacks, Penelope is a badass, Pining, Simon is oblivious, Suicidal Thoughts, baz is a cinnamon roll, baz needs some love, i promise there will be fluff later, lots of monologue, mentions of abuse, my babies deserve to be happy, no magic, simon tries his best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-02-08 16:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sittelle/pseuds/sittelle
Summary: Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch left to university to get away from the struggles his life was now full of, the insecurities and pain.It was a safe haven.And then he met Simon Snow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Baz**

 

I thought university would be a way of escape. I thought I would be able to leave my family, my name (though I suppose a name like mine is always bound to stand out), and my past. Of course it worked for a while. Just about four weeks, to be exact. My roommate dropped out after a week and a half, instantly deciding that college simply was not for him, so I had a dorm room to myself. I made friends almost instantly, though to be fair I have absolutely no idea how that happened, I'm not exactly the most friendly person at first. My classes were easy for the most part considering my mother had been adamant on going above and beyond so I can excel, and a surprising amount of what I found myself interested in she had already covered with me. It was all easy, so carefree and effortless.

But then I met him.

Simon Snow.

Possibly the worst person I have ever encountered in my measly little life. The most annoying, nagging, nosy person I have ever met. He is air-headed, oblivious, obnoxiously clumsy, and I have absolutely  _no_ idea how he has gotten this far in life alone.

And damn him, he is so,  _so_ , incredibly irresistible.

His bland, boring blue eyes that seem to stare directly through me and into my very being. His shiny bronze curls that have no right looking that perfect and soft. His moles, oh  _god_ his moles. The most endearing little things that were absolutely everywhere visible, making my heart do somersaults. Not to mention his fashion sense, absolutely atrocious. The worst part is that he managed to look amazing even in his clothing that could've been matched better by a colorblind goldfish. It is absolutely terrible. 

If I thought it was bad at the beginning, it's gotten worse. If just liking him weren't bad enough, it turned out that we had a mutual friend. Enter Penelope Bunce. She was in my Political Science class, coincidentally being the person I happened to sit next to on the first day, my main competitor for top in class, and Simon's best friend. If I had known she had any relation to the golden boy I would've given up my prime seat in order to distance myself as far as possible. However life was not doing me any favors and I had no idea, becoming fast friends with her. I remained ignorant until she introduced me. 

I still remember the flighty feeling in my chest, the butterflies in my stomach. It makes me sick.

He was nice. How I felt scared me. 

_Six weeks of hell well wasted._

Of course I decided the easiest way to go about it was to be a complete and total git. He was less nice. I felt better.

Until I didn't.

Instead of relief I felt guilt and I was back to square one. I decided that the best thing was to ignore him. So I did.

Everything was fine, as long as I didn't see him the pain of my longing was small. Until I thought of him, but my thoughts were quickly consumed by other thoughts.

_You are wrong._

_Disgusting._

_You're an abomination, you make your family look bad, Basilton. We have a reputation to upkeep, you cannot go around doing as you please to ruin it._

 

So long as I was festering in self hate for what I could not control, my ever-growing feelings for Simon Snow were in the back of my mind. Muted. Much to my despair, certainly not gone.

I thought sharing a friend was bad, I was in no way prepared for sharing a dorm room. I still remember the night I found out what happened.

The building was on fire. The entire top floor and half of the floor below it were burnt past the point of saving. My dorm was among the few that weren't completely burnt, but bad enough to which they were no longer habitable. Luckily most of my belongings made it.

However, unluckily, we were told who started it, and also our new roommates we were paired with. And the one boy who was both for me, of course, had to be Simon fucking Snow.

I also remember precisely the conversation we had when I found out.

I had been outside watching the flames being quenched when Bunce approached me.

"Hey man. Everything ok?"

"I am. My things, I'm not so sure of."

"That's tough, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's whoever the idiot is who started this bloody fire in the first place."

We stood there in silence as they finished snuffing out the flames and began to search the inside to scope out the damage. A few minutes later I was informed that my room was on the lucky side only being a little less than half burnt to ashes. the top was done for, and we were lucky the damn thing didn't implode. They got the remains of my things out and dropped them off to me on the lawn. About half of my things were okay. I was thankful for that. However any joy that I might have had in that moments when a head of impossibly perfect curls came our way. He obviously didn't see me at first. 

"Penny! What are you doing here?" As he said this I kept my gaze forward, glued onto the people coming out of the dorms with boxes of the charred pieces of people's belongings.

"I saw the fire and I came over here to make sure everything was alright," she had a small smile on her face. If hadn't known better I'd almost say that it seemed awfully relationship-like, but they've known each other for too long, and Penelope was dating a guy in America, Micah. She still is, come to think of it. And, of course, Simon was on-again off-again with Agatha Wellbelove. She wasn't very much into him anymore. 

"I feel so bad that this happened. It was just a candle, how was I supposed to know that it would get knocked over in the fifteen minutes I was gone?" he whined pitifully. 

"I never did trust your precarious ways of setting things on shelves," Bunce scratched the back of her neck, looking down. She was completely uncomfortable.

"You did what?" I finally looked at him. Even as a total dunce, he was grotesquely beautiful. 

I remember the shocked look on his face when he saw I was there. He stuttered out a patchy sentence that I couldn't quite catch, but was interrupted by the headmaster coming up to him and asking for his name. Our night had just gone from bad to worse, he found out he was to be sharing a room with me in the next building over. There wasn't much space so we were required to have a roommate. I was lightheaded. My gut wrenched horribly and I didn't know if it was dread or nervousness, or both. I had to choke down the slight contentedness that wanted to crawl up my throat.

_Great, maybe your rot will spread and infect him too?_

_But you'd like that, wouldn't you?_

_Vile._

All emotions were replaced by the sudden distant feeling of needing to vomit. It didn't happen. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Baz**

 

Since the fire my life had remained in an eternal state of chaos. That entire year drove me crazy. I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without thinking about him. It's still the same exact way, just worse. One would think that I could have simply left, gotten into an apartment, avoided the school as much as possible, and called it good. Sure, I did just that. Although it didn't help me much. The thing is, I needed a job. The only jobs around were at the school or close by, and there were no flats close enough for me to be able to get to school and work on time except for two small-ish complexes. I got a job at a local bookstore and coffee shop and moved into a flat in the closest complex. The building was set up so the first few levels had four flats on one floor, the other few had two larger flats that costed a bit more. I moved in to the lowest level of the two-flat hallways. It wasn't the top, but it was just as nice. Life was alright

Keyword: was. For a good month or so.

But then, as this life never lets me relax more than a single fleeting moment, I am made aware by the sweet old lady next door that there is a new bloke moving in below me. Of course, the next building over was almost entirely college students, so I thought I had a good chance that it's just some businessman or someone of the genre.

Boy oh boy, was I gravely mistaken.

The first person I saw was Penelope. She had two boxes balanced on top of another box, so I stepped in and offered help. We chatted a bit inside the flat. I should've known better, I was rather stupid to believe that she would move in anywhere without her best friend. 

I shouldn't have been so struck when he walked into the room with a small box of his things. I was shaken to the core, my eyes taking in his appearance. His curls were falling into his face, he was wearing baggy joggers and a hoodie with an obvious hole in the armpit, and he looked beyond tired. 

But still so  _breathtaking_. 

 

_Have you learned absolutely nothing, Basilton? You never cease to disappoint me._

_It's a disease, you know?_

_A rot._

 

It hurt to see him. The pang in my chest, the churning of my stomach, the words flying through my head almost as fast as my heart was beating.

It hurt like hell.

It was hard not to stare, but I managed.

 

"Penny, did you take up the silverware already? I couldn't find the box in the-" he cut himself off, looking at me, "Baz."

"Snow," I quirked an eyebrow, letting him think I was taking in his appearance for the first time. He shifted the box higher up into his arms, crossing his arms around it in a way that looked exceedingly uncomfortable. The way that he held the box covered his armpit hole. 

"Why are you here?" He looked at me skeptically. 

"Oh I don't know, it's not like I live directly above you or anything," I deadpanned, as if he would've been able to know that. His eyes widened. 

"You," his eyebrows furrowed," you what now?"

"I live in the flat directly above you. Honestly, Snow, it's not rocket science," I said in a tone that one would use on a toddler. "Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"You bloody git-" Simon started, but Penelope silenced him with a quick finger to his lips. 

"Hush boys, simmer down," she coaxed as if she were actually doing anything. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, it's been a joy talking to you Bunce, but I should really be going. I will most likely run into you again at some point," I said.

 

I was halfway out the door when I realized I had forgotten something. I turned around, poking my head into the room. 

 

"Oh, and Snow? Please do not burn my house down again, I actually quite like this one."

 

And then I was gone. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: flashback of non-con, panic attack, mild suicidal thoughts

**Baz**

 

I ignore Simon and go on like everything is normal. At least as normal as it gets. We've lived in the same building for a few months now and I see him every once in a while. My classes are fairly spread out, and I end up spending more time at work and on campus then at home. I have early morning classes twice a week, the other three days starting at nine or ten. My job has been going well, I work behind the counter as a barista and often work in the bookstore part at the register. Most days after work I'll go back to campus and compose or play violin. Lately I've been trying to get better at piano and guitar as well, though neither click the same way that violin does. I enjoy composing the music almost as much as I enjoy getting to play it. I could write songs if I wanted, though I have never been very well endowed in the voice department. 

Music is a good way to take my mind off of things. I keep myself busy during the week, consuming all of my time. It would probably be good for me to ease off a bit, but I am satisfied with what I am doing as of now, and I do not believe that I would be comfortable just sitting alone in my flat doing nothing. That certainly is not the way for me to relax. Too much open air, too much room to think. 

Holidays are horrendous. Things are closed and I am left to myself. I cleaned my flat and reorganized everything I own twice today.

If I'm busy enough, I don't think back to those days, those long, dreadful days that seemed to last months from sunrise to sunset. I would not be surprised if I was told that those days had taken years off of my lifespan. 

I remember the cold, dark room. I remember the scent of pungent perfume covering a faint tinge of cigarette smoke. I remember the uncomfortable cots I slept in, the ever-present hunger in my stomach, the longing to just  _go home._

I remember the feeling of their skin against mine. Hands, travelling up and down my body, caressing me, stroking me,  _violating_ me. 

I remember the sticky feeling of the air. The sweat that built up on my forehead and palms. The bile that rose in my throat.

The silent tears that streamed down my cheeks as I silently begged for someone, God, anyone, to just  _help me._ But help never came. 

I still feel dirty. I will never wash away their touch, I can't ever cover up that scent of overpowering cheap perfume.

Roses and vanilla. 

I will never cease to hear the words they told me repeatedly. The words my own father told me before he sent me away there. The words that still ring in my head, over and over and  _over_ again. 

 _You're sick, Basilton. You're going to be cured._  

_We will cure you._

_Relax, I won't hurt you. I am here to heal you. I am here to save you from the sickness that this sin has encased you in._

_What you think you are, its disgusting. Filthy. Abominable._

_They will fix you._

I stand up from the position I found myself in, on the ground in the middle of the floor in my living room. I shakily walk towards the bathroom, my head spinning and my breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. 

Leaning against the counter for support, I looked deeply into the eyes of my reflection. They were rimmed with red and becoming blurry. My knuckles were white with the force of my grip on the edge of the counter. I try to calm myself but I can't. I try to forget the words, the feelings, but I can't. It was as if they were all still there, acrylic nails dragging down my chest, my back, I could almost feel her hands on my body. In the mirror, it was only me. Me and my disgusting self. I wish I could just leave my body. 

_I don't want to be here. I don't want to be me. I don't want to exist._

I made it far enough to collapse by the toilet. My throat burns from the acid rising up. The food I had eaten was no longer in my system.

My head still spun and my hands still shook and I leaned over to the side to rest my head against the cool porcelain of my bathtub. I didn't realize the lightness in my head increasing, only the world spinning as I lay there, my eyes shut tightly. I struggled to open them, and when I did it almost didn't matter because I was unconscious in a matter of seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited

**Baz**

 

Returning to school is not typically regarded as a relief. At least not for people who had somewhere to go. I, however, had never been happier to return. The first day felt like drinking cold water after waking up out of nowhere, parched, at 3 in the morning. Or taking your jeans off in trade for sweatpants after a long day. The entire first week felt that way.

By the second week the euphoria had worn off. I was stressed, tired, and emotionally drained. In other words, back to normal. 

I decided to take charge of my mental situation and take a load off. I arranged a day off of study and school and work with Bunce, and for the first time in a long time I felt normal. Not my normal, but  _her_ normal. The kind of normal that dreads going back to school after break.

"I mean honestly, how could he even  _think_ that without being disgusted with himself? Seriously! The nerve on that guy!" 

"Oh dear," I raised an eyebrow, "and especially to say that to you of all people."

"I know! The way he said it was just icing on the cake," she fumed.

"I can already imagine. Elaborate?"

"I swear on my life he said, verbatim, 'sorry, sweetie, but it's a man's world. You can't expect to be prioritized here.' Like, what the hell? Who even has that reaction to someone saying that they just cut in front of half of the line? What kind of condescending, misogynistic,  _bullshit_ is that?" She pushed a few strands of purple hair that had fallen into her face back behind her ears. 

"Wow. Did the barista say anything?"

"Of course, but it didn't help anyone. He was moved to the back of the line, but then the people back there had to deal with his asshattery," she rolled her eyes. I chuckled at her choice of words.

"This is precisely why you should come to the one in the bookstore," I smirked. She groaned loudly, dramatically laying her head on the table in defeat.

"But it's so far," she rolled her head to the side in what is possibly the most melodramatic display of displeasure I have ever witnessed.

"Oh come on, Penelope. It's literally two blocks away from that shithole you get your so-called coffee from."

"Oh shut up, you hipster," we laughed, and I picked at a half of a salad I ordered while she started on her sandwich. She had been so caught up in her story she didn't even get the chance to unwrap her food.

We sat in silence for a bit while she ate. I never finished the half of a salad, instead pulling my phone out and scrolling through my feed. I scrolled for a bit, liking a few aesthetic pictures and dogs. All of a sudden, a familiar face showed up on my screen. I nearly had a heart attack. He was so damn  _beautiful_. I propped my cheek against the palm of my hand, sighing.

"Oh, God," Penny's eyebrows drew together as she glanced from my phone screen on the table to my face, "you're still pining over Simon?" 

"I have been for a while, why stop now? I should go for a world record. Longest self-destructive, pathetic, depressing spiral of unrequited love for the same mediocre boy." I studied the picture on my screen.

He was wearing a cream sweater, laying in the grass surrounded by yellow flowers. His curls were spayed perfectly behind his head, and his blue eyes were so vibrant they could've been mistaken for contacts. The most eye-catching part of it all were the freckles. They were quite possibly the most endearing part of Simon, aside from literally everything else about him. 

"Do you ever think that maybe this is unhealthy? Mentally, I mean."

I exhaled, closing the app and turning my phone screen off. "It can't be any worse than literally any other part of my life. I'm a catastrophic bastard, Penelope."

"You are not. You have issues, so do I, so does everybody. That doesn't give you an excuse to neglect your mental health, Basil."

"I'm not neglecting  _anything_. I can assure you that," I stared into her eyes, neither of us wavering. She is the first to look away.

"Promise?"

"Promise what?"

"Promise me that you're at least a little okay. Promise me that you will at least make some sort of effort to get the hell over Simon. Promise me that you will take what is good for you into consideration, rather than dealing with whatever problems you may have alone."

"That's a tall order." My eyes wander to anywhere that isn't her face.

" _Promise_ , Baz. Please," she looked at me pleadingly, and for the first time in a long time, it felt as if someone genuinely cared for me.

"Fine," I hold my pinkie out to her, and she hooks hers around it. "I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo sorry if the money is off i dont know how money works i tried my best

A few weeks had passed from the day I spent with Penelope. She told me to seek help for my 'emotional instability', and boy did she underestimate that , but of course I didn't. It wasn't that I couldn't afford it, I just would much rather slowly scoop out my own eyeballs with a plastic spork than delve that far into my feelings. Instead, I started to learn how to play the ukulele. Mainly because, as ridiculous as it sounds, you can't really be sad playing a ukulele. Sure, you can sing sad songs and strum somber sounding chord progressions, but something about the sound of it makes everything seem light.

It didn't take long to learn how to play. My fingertips had previously calloused, I had already become accustomed to moving my fingers strangely to hit certain chords, and I never had an issue with strumming patterns. Thus, being able to play, I had been playing nearly every day. I didn't bother to go to the school to do it since I could play quietly enough. I couldn't help myself from singing the songs I was playing quietly.

One night, in the middle of playing Best Friend by Rex Orange County from a bean bag in the middle of my living room, I looked over and realized my window was open. Meaning, people could hear me.

I stopped playing, setting the ukulele down on the ground and getting up to check who else may have had an open window. It was a brisk night and I had desperately hoped that everyone had shut theirs to stay warm. 

Of course, this wasn't the case. 

The flat below mine had an open window. So did the one above mine, and the one across from that one in the next building over. I blushed a bright red and closed my curtains, but not the window. The cold air was nice.

I decided to leave the song where it was, shutting the lights off and retiring to my bedroom.

 

 

The next morning I had to work. I was working the shift alone as the girl I usually have this shift with had the flu, but that didn't bother me considering not many people come around on early Sunday mornings. Also, its the flu and I'm not heartless.

Everything had gone smoothly so far. The book shop was empty and so was the coffee shop, so I was leaning against the counter reading  _We All Looked Up_ by Tommy Wallach, one of my favorite books. I was so enthralled that I didn't notice the two people walk into the shop. The next thing I knew, two elbows were slammed into the counter in front of me. I jumped, shutting the book and looking up quickly. Penelope Bunce was smirking, resting her chin in her hand.

"Slacking off on the job, I see?" She teased. I rolled my eyes.

"Take a look around Penelope, do you see any reason for me not to be? You're literally the only one in here aside from me."

She shook her head, making a  _tsk_ sound. "No no, you look. Simon is here." My eyes widened slightly and I looked behind her, seeing him leaning against a table with a cup of coffee in his hands, glaring.

"Oh my sincerest apologies, he hasn't broken anything yet so I didn't register his presence," I deadpanned, looking back to Penelope. "He does know it's rude to bring outside products into other stores, right?"

"I gotta be safe, you might've tried to poison me," he piped up.

"Right, Snow, because I just happen to bring poison to work with me. Just in case you were to ever come here," I sighed heavily. 

"He made me stop at a different cafe so he could buy coffee just so he could say that," Penny rolled her eyes. I shook my head. He hates me so much and it  _hurts so badly_.

"Anyway," I cleared my throat, "what do you want?"

"Cold brew, no ice. No sugar or milk either." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Fan of bitter, I see?"

Simon of course had to pipe up,  _again_. "Just like you."

I was so absolutely not up for fighting, the energy drained from my body at the thought of fighting with him. I elected to not say anything, keeping my eyes on Penelope. 

"Alright, weirdo, that's gonna cost you £2.49."

She nodded, handing me the money. I stuffed it in the register and began making her basic gross drink. She turned to talk to Simon. 

"So, what were you saying about the thing you heard last night?"

"Oh my god, it was heavenly. You should've heard it. Would've if you'd stop falling asleep in the middle of every movie I ever put on for movie night."

"Hypocrite, you do it too. Anyway, I need details."

"Okay, so I don't know where the singing came from, but I have a few theories." I tensed up, turning around with her finished drink.

"Bunce," I said, interrupting to hand her her coffee. She thanked me and waved goodbye as they left.

Holy shit, Simon Snow heard me singing. 

And holy shit, Simon Snow called my singing  _heavenly._


End file.
